On being Ruthian

The kids and I picked up my MIL today to take her to lunch.

My MIL is in her seventies and has Parkinson's'. It is always a trip with her. She told me for the first time (again) that she has Parkinson's' and that she cannot eat any wheat or flour. (I've only been around for 9 years, but hey, everyone needs a little reminder now and then, right?)

Two and a half hours later, we emerged from the restaurant. I was exhausted. Than we drove her to her hair appointment where she was going to get her hair washed and curled. She told me all about the gal who does her hair. She's awful. She uses her FINGERS to separate the curls, instead of a comb or brush. I found my MIL's disdain for the woman really funny. I mean, LOL funny. Every time I mentioned the salon (my kids ask lots of questions)- she would say, "I'm going to get my hair washed and curled and than combed with FINGERS." * you have to say it with lots of emphasis and disdain in your voice. Anyhow, I'm sure this is only funny to me, so, I'm sorry.

My sweet MIL could not remember exactly where this salon is, so we drove around for a bit, real slow, and annoying all the other lovely shoppers who are just trying to go along their own way. (I wanted to tell them all, "I'm sorry, I cannot control the fact that I don't know where I'm going!- she's in charge here!!!")

Well anyhow, we made it, and it was lovely.

The funniest line of all was when I first picked her up and she said, " whew! I took EXTRA pain killers today so I wouldn't be hurting, and honey, I'm flying!"